His Other Wife

by Umm Zakiyyah

  “Just ask,” Salima said. “Even if she doesn’t, she might be willing to take Ibrahim, at least for tomorrow.”

  “We’re not exactly friends though…” Aliyah said weakly. “I don’t even think she likes me.”

  Aliyah heard Salima chuckle. “Ukhti,” Salima said, “it’s normal for sisters to watch each other’s children, even if they’re not friends otherwise.”

  “Not for me,” Aliyah said, sadness in her tone. “Those privileges are usually only for married women.”

  Salima was quiet momentarily. “I forgot about that… But it can’t hurt to ask, can it?”

  Aliyah paused doubtfully. “Do you know Juwayriah bint Abdullah?”

  “The one who’s always posting about marriage on Facebook?” Salima asked, confusion and disapproval in her tone.

  “Yes…” Aliyah said hesitantly. “That’s the only sister I know who does childcare.”

  There was an extended pause. “You might not want to go there…” Salima said.

  “I don’t think she’ll harm Ibrahim or anything,” Aliyah said for clarity. “But I just don’t feel comfortable, you know?”

  “Look,” Salima said as if an idea had come to her suddenly. “Let me make some calls, and if I can’t come up with anything, I’ll call Juwayriah myself. I don’t think she’ll say no to me.”

  Aliyah’s stomach churned in apprehension. “But won’t she think you’re calling for Haroon?”

  “No,” Salima said matter-of-factly. “Because I’ll tell her I’m calling for Ibrahim.”

  Aliyah was still unconvinced. “But call me first,” she said reluctantly. “I may decide to take my chances with keeping Ibrahim in my office.”

  Mashael had finished praying and was sitting on the couch thumbing through a book when Aliyah returned to the living room with her mobile phone in hand. Aliyah’s prayer garment and sajjaadah were folded neatly on the floor table in front of the couch.

  Mashael looked up and smiled when Aliyah came in. “This is pretty good,” Mashael said, holding up the book she was reading. The Purification of the Soul.

  Aliyah smiled hesitantly, an embarrassed expression on her face. She had left the book in the living room a couple of days ago when she had been looking for another self-affirmation quote to hang on the wall.

  “Where’d you get it?”

  “Probably from the masjid sooq,” Aliyah said, resisting the urge to take the book from Mashael as she sat a comfortable distance from her on the couch. Seeing someone she didn’t know well holding a book she had been reading made Aliyah feel vulnerable and exposed. “But sometimes I order my books online.”

  “I usually don’t like religious books.” Mashael opened the book to a page and read from it briefly in silence, making Aliyah cringe. “But this one seems interesting.”

  “You just have to find the right ones,” Aliyah said, an awkward smile creasing the corners of her mouth. “Personally, my favorites are tafseer. But anything by Ibn al-Qayyim Al-Jawziyyah, I’ll read. It’s not always easy to find a good translation though.”

  “Maybe Reem has it in Arabic,” Mashael said as she nodded approvingly and put the book back on the floor table. Internally, Aliyah exhaled in relief. She was tempted to take the book to her room right then.

  Aliyah chuckled self-consciously. “Oh yeah, I forgot you can just read the Arabic, mashaAllah.”

  “Tazkiyatun-nafs?” Mashael said.

  “Yes,” Aliyah said, feeling relieved as she sensed that Mashael was genuinely interested in the book. “And you’ll probably like Patience and Gratitude, too,” she added. “Sabr wa Shukr.”

  Mashael smirked. “If I tell Reem about the Islamic books you suggested, she just might change her mind about Americans.”

  Aliyah smiled uncertainly. “What do you mean?”

  “She says Americans trivialize religious scholarship.” Mashael shook her head humorously.

  An awkward smile lingered on Aliyah’s face. Aliyah had no idea if Mashael’s comment was related to her directly, but Aliyah wasn’t inclined to defend herself. Years ago, she would have tried to explain that she valued religious scholarship greatly. But her repeated experiences in some of her Islamic classes dissuaded her.

  Respecting religious scholarship is how I came to accept Islam and avoid shirk,” Aliyah had told a sister once. “Where do you think I learned how to pray, fast, and recite Qur’an?” Aliyah had asked. But because Aliyah asked questions during class, requested prophetic evidence for a sheikh’s position, and was unwilling to commit herself to a single spiritual teacher or madhhab, her Islamic faith was constantly questioned.

  It was only recently that Aliyah had come to accept that there was a major difference between how she understood her duty to Allah and how other Muslims understood theirs. So she decided that her time was better spent focusing on pleasing Allah rather than constantly trying to find the right words to express appreciation for something to which only a person’s life could bear witness.

  “Does Reem know you’re here?” Aliyah asked, intentionally shifting the topic of conversation to why Mashael had come.

  “Probably not,” Mashael said with a shrug. “But it’s not a secret. She knows I plan to talk to you about Sheldon.”

  “That’s his name?”

  “Yes.

  Aliyah felt uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Mashael…” Aliyah’s thoughts trailed as she searched for the right words for what she was trying to say. “I’m probably not the best person to talk to...”

  “Like I said yesterday,” Mashael said, slight annoyance in her tone. “I’m not expecting a fatwa or anything. I just need another perspective.”

  “But would your family be okay with you talking to me?” As much as Aliyah wanted to help, she was wary of getting involved in something like this. Aliyah, like other American Muslims she knew, had had negative experiences with offering relationship advice to immigrant Muslims. Most situations ended with her being branded a bad influence or being cut off from the immigrant family entirely. It never made any difference whether or not the scandal or dilemma existed long before her advice was sought. In the eyes of the “good Muslim family,” if an American was involved at any stage, the moral corruption was somehow his or her fault.

  “Of course not,” Mashael said, contorting her face. “That’s why I can’t talk to them about anything. They’re already calling me a kaafir for having an American boyfriend. How are we supposed to have a conversation about marriage?”

  Aliyah drew in a deep breath and exhaled. “Okay, Mashael…” she agreed tentatively, warning in her voice. “But I’m not a scholar, so I really don’t feel comfortable sp—”

  “Aliyah, it’s fine,” Mashael said, frustration in her tone. “I just want to talk to a human being for once. Every time I even mention Sheldon’s name, my family gets angry and refuses to speak to me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Aliyah said sincerely. “It’s just that I don’t want to make matters worse.” She coughed laughter, embarrassment in that sound. “You said yourself that they don’t trust Americans.”

  “But isn’t that wrong?” Mashael met Aliyah’s gaze with her eyes narrowed angrily. “Aren’t we supposed to accept everybody as equal? What difference does it make if Sheldon is American or Saudi? It’s not like Allah segregates us based on nationality. He looks at our hearts.”

  Aliyah was silent momentarily. “But Mashael… Sheldon isn’t Muslim.”

  “And?” Mashael snorted. “He’s a good person. That’s all that should matter.”

  “But you can’t marry a disbeliever,” Aliyah said hesitantly, hoping she wasn’t offending Mashael. “Maybe that’s what your family is trying to say.”

  “He’s not a disbeliever,” Mashael said, folding her arms in a pout. “He’s a believing Christian. Doesn’t that make him from Ahl al-Kitaab?”

  Aliyah was overcome with dread. When Mashael had first mentioned her “recovering Christian” boyfriend, Aliyah had feared the conversation woul
d go in this direction. It was commonplace for some Muslims to label Jews and Christians as “believers” if they felt they were good people. In Aliyah’s experience, these Muslims were either unaware or dismissive of the Qur’anic verses and prophetic statements that differentiated between the earliest Muslims who followed the prophets Moses and Jesus and those who committed shirk and disbelieved in Prophet Muhammad.

  Aliyah sighed. “Mashael…” she said, hoping her reply wouldn’t lead to a longwinded discussion on Islamic aqeedah, as conversations on correct fundamental beliefs never seemed to go well. Most Muslims Aliyah knew were quite dogmatic in their incorrect beliefs, especially if the beliefs stemmed from love or admiration for a non-Muslim or if they stemmed from the teachings of a revered spiritual teacher. “…even if he is considered one of the People of the Book, you aren’t allowed to marry him.”

  “You’re saying only men can marry People of the Book?”

  “No,” Aliyah said. “Allah is saying that.”

  “So you’re saying Allah favors men?”

  “Mashael,” Aliyah said, exhaustion in her tone, “I’m not going to argue with you about Allah. As far as I’m concerned, marrying non-Muslims isn’t a privilege. So I don’t see it as favoring anyone, except maybe the children who get to be raised Muslim.”

  Arms still folded, Mashael was silent as she appeared to consider what Aliyah was saying.

  “But how do you know it’s only men who can marry Jews and Christians?” Mashael said finally, frustration in her tone. “A lot of verses in the Qur’an apply to everybody even when Allah uses the masculine.”

  “I don’t have the authority to reinterpret the Qur’an,” Aliyah said. “So all I can tell you is, as long as Sheldon isn’t Muslim, you aren’t allowed to marry him.”

  “But that’s not fair,” Mashael said. “Women should be able to marry whoever they want, just like men.”

  “No one can marry whoever they want, Mashael,” Aliyah said. “Men can’t marry atheists or Buddhists or Hindus, or even Jews and Christians who don’t fulfill certain conditions.”

  Mashael’s expression conveyed annoyed disapproval. “But why does religion have to dictate our lives like that? It’s so frustrating.”

  “Mashael, religion is a choice just like marriage is a choice,” Aliyah said. “So if you’re frustrated with anything, it should be with the person who feels that neither you nor God is important enough to make any changes for.”

  Mashael bit her lower lip as her eyes became distant momentarily. “I never thought about it like that,” she said honestly.

  “If a man is asking you to give up your beliefs to marry him,” Aliyah added, “then it’s just you converting to his religion instead of the other way around. So in the end, the real question is, who is your Lord?”

  Mashael nodded thoughtfully. “I just feel like love is most important, you know?”

  “It is,” Aliyah said. “But only love of Allah.”

  “But does it really matter if he loves Allah or not?” Mashael said after a thoughtful pause. “My parents are saying Sheldon will never be a real Muslim, even if he converts.”

  Aliyah furrowed her brows. “Why would they say something like that?”

  “They said if he becomes Muslim, it’ll only be to marry me, so our marriage won’t be valid.”

  “We can’t say what’s in anyone’s heart.”

  Mashael snorted. “Tell that to my parents. When I told them that, they said most Americans aren’t real Muslims anyway.”

  Aliyah tried to conceal her offense. “But is Sheldon interested in Islam?”

  “He’s asking a lot of questions, but my family refuses to help.” Mashael shrugged. “I know I can just find some American Muslims to teach him, but he really wants to get to know my family.”

  Aliyah drew in a deep breath and exhaled. Despite how disturbing all of this was, as the one offering advice, Aliyah had the obligation to look at the situation from all angles. At the end of the day, Mashael’s family were humans like everyone else, so they couldn’t be blamed too harshly if they didn’t like Sheldon. Besides, Aliyah had no idea who Sheldon was. It was possible that Mashael’s parents had very good reason to protect their daughter from him.

  “Mashael,” Aliyah said, her tone soft with empathy, “I know it’s not right what they’re doing, but if they think Sheldon has ulterior motives, they’re not going to want him around, even if it’s just to learn about Islam.”

  “Why is marriage an ulterior motive only when it’s an American?” Mashael blurted, her face contorted. “My family doesn’t refuse dinner invitations of Saudi families whose sons want to marry me.”

  “But Sheldon isn’t Muslim,” Aliyah said.

  Mashael rolled her eyes. “Do you really think that makes any difference?” she asked, meeting Aliyah’s gaze challengingly. “If he became Muslim tomorrow, do you think it’ll change how they feel?”

  “Maybe they’re upset that things didn’t start off right,” Aliyah suggested noncommittally. “Having a boyfriend isn’t allowed in Islam.”

  “I never said it was,” Mashael said flippantly. “That’s why we’re trying to get married.” She snorted. “And just so you know, he doesn’t believe in sleeping with anyone before marriage either. Muslims aren’t the only ones with morals.”

  Aliyah nodded thoughtfully. “MashaAllah,” she said. “But maybe you should see if—”

  The chime and vibration of Aliyah’s mobile phone interrupted her midsentence, and she quickly reached forward and picked up the phone, anticipating a message from Salima. “Sorry,” Aliyah muttered to Mashael, smiling apologetically before looking at the display. “I’m trying to find a babysitter for Ibrahim before tomorrow.”

  “That’s fine,” Mashael muttered, but Aliyah sensed that Mashael wasn’t happy with the interruption.

  Do you mind if it’s a brother who takes care of Ibrahim? Salima’s text message said.

  Aliyah typed a quick reply. As long as he’s trustworthy. Do you know him?

  He’s a friend of Jamil’s.

  How much does he charge?

  He said he’ll do it for free.

  Aliyah couldn’t keep from grinning as her index finger swiftly tapped the keypad: Are you serious? But before she pressed send, the phone rang, and Salima’s name appeared on the screen.

  “Jamil says it’s Larry,” Salima said after Aliyah answered.

  Aliyah’s heart sank. “Larry?” she repeated, defeated.

  “Before you say anything, it was Jamil who made the suggestion.”

  “But why Larry?”

  “Because he’s keeping Younus and Thawab during the day now,” Salima said. “The summer program they were in ended last week, and Jacob can’t keep them because he’s helping with Deanna’s case.”

  Aliyah didn’t know what to say. Had her childcare choices really been reduced to Juwayriah or Larry? This was beyond humiliating. She wondered if she should just take her chances with bringing Ibrahim to work.

  “He’s really not a bad person,” Salima said sincerely. “I know he may not be your number one marriage choice, but he’s good with children, mashaAllah. I even left Haroon with him a few times.”

  Aliyah glanced uncertainly in the direction of Mashael, whose stiff expression thinly veiled her impatience to finish the conversation they’d started. “Let me think about it.”

  “If you decide to leave Ibrahim with him, Jamil can call Larry if you want,” Salima said.

  “No, it’s okay,” Aliyah said, as if exhaling the words. “I just need to give it some thought.”

  After ending the call, Aliyah bit her lower lip and stared off into the distance for some time, still holding the mobile phone.

  “Is everything okay?”

  At the sound of Mashael’s voice, Aliyah forced a smile and reached forward to set the phone down. “It’s fine,” she said. “I just have to decide who should keep Ibrahim tomorrow.”

  “Your family doesn’t live nearby?”
Mashael asked.

  “My family?” Aliyah said, drawing her eyebrows together as she met Mashael’s gaze.

  “Your parents,” Mashael clarified.

  “They’re two hours away.”

  “That must be hard,” Mashael said sympathetically.

  A sad smile lingered on Aliyah’s face. “It is,” she said, unable to temper the melancholy she felt at the assumption that her parents would help with Ibrahim even if they lived closer.

  ***

  Aliyah woke early Monday morning with a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach. What had she been thinking when she decided to bring Ibrahim to work with her? Even if she arrived early enough so that no one saw her and Ibrahim come in, was it fair to ask her five-year-old son to sit quietly in a closed office all day? And what would she do when it was time to leave, or when he had to go to the restroom? And what if a student, or Dr. Warren, stopped by her office? Aliyah sat up in bed and tossed the covers from her body before going to the bathroom.

  As she washed her hands, she wondered if it was pride more than judiciousness that had motivated her decision to refuse Larry’s offer. While Juwayriah had shown Aliyah open contempt such that leaving Ibrahim with her would be unwise, Larry had only been annoying. Nothing he’d said or done suggested that Ibrahim shouldn’t be around him. And even if Aliyah had other options, it was probably best for Ibrahim to be in the company of Younus and Thawab as opposed to complete strangers. So had her decision really been about Ibrahim’s best interests?

  On her way back to her bedroom, Aliyah peered into Ibrahim’s room and watched the rhythmic rise and fall of his blanket as he slept soundly. He deserves the company of friends, not a cramped office, she thought to herself. Was it too late to call Salima to say she changed her mind? she wondered. Feeling mortified and regretful that she had inadvertently put her needs before her son’s, Aliyah dragged herself to her room and wondered what she would say to Salima—and Larry.

  “Call me first thing in the morning if you change your mind,” Salima had said last night. “I leave for work around seven o’clock.”